


Where the Love Light Gleams

by Liz2010



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Artist Derek Hale, Christmas Fluff, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:27:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liz2010/pseuds/Liz2010
Summary: Derek marched over to the table and pulled Stiles’ chin over so that he was looking out the window. “It’s snowing.”Christmas never feels quite like Christmas when you can't be home. But sometimes, home is where you make it.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59
Collections: 12 Days of Sterek





	Where the Love Light Gleams

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I own nothing and not beta read.
> 
> Trigger warning. A character is this fic exhibits symptoms similar to covid-19. I assure you that the character does not have it. This fic was thought out and outlined before covid existed and the overlap of symptoms is coincidence. But, if a character being sick in this way will bother you, please don't read.

“Stiles.”

A distracted hum was Derek’s only answer. He frowned with annoyance but continued puttering around the kitchen until he finished the hot chocolate he was making. 

“Stiles.”

This time he got an absentminded hand flap. 

Derek signed, then picked up the mugs and walked over to the table where Stiles had papers hanging off the edges, several books open, and the computer open to a blank word document. 

Stiles wasn’t looking much better than the poor, overworked table. Studying for finals was rough on him. His fingers tapped a staccato rhythm that didn’t match the music blasting from his phone while he chewed on his pen, eyes darting wildly as he read two of his books at once. His hair stuck up in messy spikes and he had circles so dark under his eyes that he almost looked possessed again. 

Derek shuttered at the remembrance of the Nogitsune.

It had been the better part of two years since they had expelled the demon fox, but Stiles still woke up screaming, unsure of what was real and what was dream. Only now Derek was there to comfort him in the dark, holding him until the tears came. 

It was the reason they were in New York. After the Nogitsune, after they lost Aiden and very nearly Allison as well, life managed to calm down in Beacon Hills. The pack pulled together and soldiered on, becoming stronger than ever. 

Ethan left, unable to bear to stay without his brother. Allison had tons of physical therapy to recover from the sword that ran her though but somehow managed to miss her vital organs. Chris started working with the Sheriff to come up with some supernatural defenses for the city. Lydia convinced Deaton to lend her some books that explained her banshee powers and excelled with them effortlessly. Isaac and Allison became an official couple, while Scott learned how to base his life around something that wasn’t his girlfriend. Malia learned how to be human, while Kira learned how to be a fox. All the kids worked through their senior year, absolutely blossoming into the young adults Derek had always known they would be. 

Everyone except Stiles. 

Sure, he graduated, as salutatorian even, with only Lydia besting him. But everyone could tell that he was struggling, his senior year a disaster. He had nightmares; nightmares so bad that he didn’t sleep for days after. He had panic attacks every week, the scent of fear never fading from his skin. 

He quit lacrosse and started skipping their pack meetings until he stopped hanging with the pack entirely. He reeked of depression. He barely ate, picking at even his favorite foods. Derek saw bandages peeking from under his long sleeves on the rare occasion he showed up to a pack meeting, smelled the scent of fresh blood on his skin, and it terrified him. 

Stiles was spiraling, fading, cutting himself into pieces. And he didn’t even care, gaze growing more and more distant each week. 

The pack tried to help him. His dad cut back on hours to be there to wake Stiles from his nightmares, holding him while he sobbed. The pack tried to bring him out his depression, Scott with video games and bro time, Lydia with college applications and schoolwork. The others flitted around, bring food and distractions, trying so hard to understand. 

But it didn’t do any good. 

Derek had stayed on the edges watching it all, wanting to help but not knowing how. He was pack, but then again, he wasn’t. He had never submitted to Scott. Scott was turning into to a good alpha, but he wasn’t family. He wasn’t Talia or Laura and Derek struggled with the idea of baring his neck. 

It was towards the worst of winter senior year when Derek stepped in, by chance rather than design. 

Derek had been at the graveyard, trying to escape the Christmas cheer that was everywhere during the month of December. It was hard to deal with the holidays when he was alone and the memories of what he had lost were thick. 

He didn’t talk to the graves. He had no illusion that his family could somehow hear. Their bodies weren’t even there. Only the markers, proof that Derek had once had a family. But it was a good place to think. He came out often, sometimes to read, sometimes to sketch, sometimes simply to breathe without the weight of the world pressing down on him. 

He had just put away his sketchbook and pencils, the winter sun quickly sinking and killing the light, when he caught the sound of a hummingbird heart. 

Stiles was wandering down one of the gravel paths, fingers skimming the tops of headstones. He wore only a light jacket despite the cold, and his skin was pale. There was no sign of the jeep. The Sheriff had taken it away in a fit of anger after his son refused to eat and apparently Stiles didn’t care enough to steal it back. Derek hoped the kid hadn’t walked the whole way there, but he suspected he had. 

Derek should have left, should have sunk away silently. He should have given Stiles privacy to visit his mother, or whoever he was there for. But he didn’t. He couldn’t leave him there alone in the fading light of day. 

Stiles stopped at the white headstone marked with Claudia’s name and fell to his knees, hands braced against the cold stone as if it could save him. 

Derek walked quietly towards him. He could smell tears, but he could smell blood as well, and his need to have Stiles safe and alive outweighed any respect for the younger man’s privacy. 

He knelt down next to the now sobbing teen. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” Stiles choked out, tilting his head up to meet Derek’s gaze. “I can’t.”

Carefully, slowly, ever so aware of the danger that for a while, Derek would have to carry both his and Stiles’ ghosts, Derek reached out and took Stiles in his arms. He let him cry, the first real emotions the human had showed in months. 

Finally, when the tears slowed, Stiles spoke again. 

“Does it ever get better? Does it ever stop hurting?”

Derek shrugged. He wasn’t completely sure what Stiles was talking about. It could have been the pain of losing loved ones, the terrible fear of being made a murder, the hopelessness of being used to do horrific things against his will. No matter what, Derek knew how it felt. 

He answered the easiest question. “It never goes away complete. You always miss them. You always feel wrong, like you’re not quite yourself. But it stops feeling like your drowning. You tread water for a while, then finally, you find out you can swim.”

“How?”

Derek shifted Stiles slightly so he could pull of his jacket. “You let us help you. Let me help you.”

He draped the jacket over Stiles' thin shoulders. Stiles left it there as followed Derek out of the graveyard.

It hadn’t been a quick fix. It took months of therapy, multiple adjustments to medications and countless hours of support from the whole pack before Stiles learned to live again. And even then, he was still a quieter, more withdrawn version of himself. But it was a start and Derek would take it. 

Their relationship hadn’t been quick to start either. They had stayed friends, close friends who tended to share the bed on bad nights, not doing anything but talking for hours when they couldn’t sleep, until the summer before college. That’s when Derek simply couldn’t take it anymore. He had been falling in love with Stiles for ages, every since he first saw the human in the woods. All the time they had been spending together just made him love the human more. Derek made his romantic confession during a movie when they were snuggled up alone together on his couch at the loft. Stiles had had stared at him blankly for far too long, long enough Derek panicked and tried to backpaddle it so at least they could stay friends. Then Stiles kissed him and Derek was hooked. 

It wasn’t perfect. They had problems. Stiles liked to try to push Derek away because he felt worthless. Derek didn’t communicate his feelings, making Stiles think he was angry when he was really just overwhelmed. There had been lots of tears, lots of late-night discussions but also lots of kisses and cuddles. Derek knew deep down that this was it for him. They were meant for each other. 

Going to New York had been a last-ditch attempt at a fresh start. Despite all his progress, Stiles stalled out on moving forward around the end of school year. He was functioning, but not healing and slowly Derek understood that he couldn’t. Not in Beacon Hills.

Derek had a standing job offer to share space at a small art studio, and Stiles had gotten into NYU. So they hugged the others and left for New York, with only Lydia coming along with them. She insisted, saying she was never leaving her brother alone again, even though the Sheriff and Mrs. Martin had broken up after just a few dates. Stiles had smiled so broadly at the declaration that Derek didn’t have the heart to say no and found them a large, furnished two-bedroom apartment with an elevator and a doorman, at her request.

The others stayed in Beacon Hills to keep the city safe, happy enough to take classes at the local community college. Stiles missed them, especially Scott. The pack stayed in touch though group texts and snapchats, but Scott and Stiles took it to another level. They watched movies and did homework while on video call, ate dinner talking on the phone, and texted all the time. 

But leaving was the best thing they could have done. Stiles smiled now. He laughed at Derek’s dry wit, reached out to Lydia when he had a bad day, called his dad to just to talk. He was doing so much better. The cuts faded to scars and he almost never had panic attacks. 

Derek did sometimes. He had terrible dreams that Stiles would get bad again, that Derek would come home one day to find a body not a person. He would wake with a jerk and hold his boyfriend tight. He would breath in Stiles’ scent and focus on his heartbeat. He would remember that Stiles was alive and in his arms. That not everyone he loved was doomed to die. 

Derek shook his head, clearing away his morbid thoughts. That was then, this was now. And right now, his boyfriend was ignoring him.

“Stiles.” Derek said, throwing a bit of a growl into his voice and setting down the mug slightly harder than necessary. 

“What?” Stiles still didn’t stop reading, now highlighting every paragraph in the book. 

Derek marched over to the table and carefully pulled Stiles’ chin over so that he was looking out the window. “It’s snowing.”

Stiles immediately stood and ran to the window, finally seeing the reason Derek had been interrupting him. He jumped up and down, hands on either side of the window frame. “Its snowing! Let’s go outside, let’s go to the park, do you think we can sled, let’s”

Derek caught Stiles’ lips in a soft kiss that quickly became passionate, pulling him close as he ravished that amazingly tender mouth.

“Or we could do that.” Stiles said as he pulled away for air, pupils wide and lips red. 

Derek laughed, handing his boyfriend his hot chocolate from the table, then kissed him again, gently this time.

He wrapped an arm around Stiles, who had turned to watch the snow float down under the streetlights with a look not short of amazement on his face. 

“I was worried we woudn’t get to see any snow this year.”

Derek took a sip of his cocoa. “Yeah, it’s been pretty mild so far this year, for New York.”

Stiles looked up in mock horror. “This was mild? I’ve been freezing my ass off.”

As if to prove a point, a barking cough made its way up Stiles’ throat. Derek frowned, but Stiles shook it off. 

“Cocoa down the wrong pipe.”

Derek accepted it, though he vowed to keep an eye him. The younger man had a bad habit of not taking care of himself when he was stressed, and finally were absolutely stressing him out. If he got run down and stopped taking care of himself, he could easily get sick.

“I’m glad it snowed before Christmas. Makes it feel more special somehow. Like a rom com or a Hallmark movie.”

Christmas was still a few weeks off, after finals, but they weren’t staying in the city for the holiday. Lydia was flying out the weekend before, so they would have a week in New York by themselves. Then Stiles and Derek were flying out Christmas morning to meet the Sheriff in the evening, since he had to work Christmas morning. Tickets were cheap because it wasn’t a common flying day, so it all worked out.

Then the day after Christmas the pack was getting together. They would have until New Year’s Day to reconnect, as that was when Stiles, Lydia, and Derek had to fly back and start getting ready for classes again. 

Stiles had been hesitant to go home for Christmas. He missed his dad and his pack like crazy, but he had been worried that the focus on Christmas might make Derek sad. He hadn’t said why, but Derek knew they both were thinking about a burn-out house and the hole it left in him. It was always extra hard, on birthdays and holidays. Stiles was understanding on those days, when Derek just wanted to lie in bed and miss them. 

But Derek could practically smell the desperation on Stiles to see everyone and he wasn’t about to be the reason Stiles wouldn’t see his dad, ever. And it would be nice to see the pack. 

“I can’t believe you like snow. It’s so wet and gross. Not to mention it makes traffic unbearable.” Derek teased. 

“Lies! Slander! It’s beautiful and wonderful. A gift from the heavens to the mere mortals down below. And the traffic sucks no matter what.”

Derek nodded his agreement, grinning at Stiles’ wild gesturing and rambling, glad that the pressures of finals wasn’t getting to him. 

“Besides. I’ve never seen snow in real life before.”

Derek could smell the contentment rolling of his boyfriend and was so glad he made him take a break. 

“I love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

Whatever bad things had happened in his life, they had led him to Stiles. For that, he would always be thankful. 

\-------

The week before finals was one of the longest of Derek's life. Stiles was twitchy and distracted. He dropped things more than usual, eating only when Derek made him, and drinking way too much coffee. He had nightmares every night, the stress of the day bleeding over into the night. 

He even had a panic attack; the worst one he had since leaving Beacon Hills. It had been bad, and what was worse was Derek had been at work. Stiles locked himself in the bathroom and hyperventilated over the possibility of failing his exams while poor Lydia was alone to deal with it, pounding on the door to Stiles to let her while screaming over the phone for Derek to get home from his studio.

Lydia handed finals slightly better in that she didn’t take years off Derek’s life by freaking out. She was snappish, demanding constant silence even though she spent most of her time locked in her soundproof room to study. But she at least had enough sense to eat and bath on her own, unlike Stiles. 

Derek spent most of his time trying to make sure both students slept occasionally and ate decently, cooking healthy and nutritious meals three times a day. He was unfortunately also their verbal punching bag, but they always heaped apologies on him later. It worked, for the most part, and the week finally passed. 

Both Lydia and Stiles passed all their classes with flying colors and Derek was looking forward to enjoying their winter break until they flew out for Beacon Hills.

They ordered in pizza on Friday and vegged out watching TV, too worn out to celebrate any out way. It was a perfect way to relax, and relax they did, laying all over each other. Derek’s wolf was pleased that his mate was near him and no longer reeking of anxiety and worry.

Lydia was happy was well, her scent crisp and sweet, alternating between petting Derek’s head and texting a boy from her econ class. 

But Stiles seemed off. He was restless but in a different way than usual. He wasn’t drumming his fingers or taping his leg as was normal for him, but was shifting his body constantly like he couldn’t get comfortable. He coughed a few times, and only ate one piece of pizza. Derek frowned at him, pulling him close and hoping a good night’s sleep would be enough to shake off this funk he was in. They were flying out next Saturday, and Derek hoped he would feel better by then. 

Stiles phone dinged with an email alert and he groaned, wigging off Derek’s lap to grab it off the end table. Derek huffed at the loss but made up for it by sticking his face in the back of Stiles’ neck to breath in the smell of paper, ink, and oak that made up Stiles’ scent. 

“Son of a bitch.”

Derek pulled away, worried about the spike in Stiles’ heartbeat. Lydia looked up from her phone, concerned as well.

“What happened?”

“They caught a bunch of people cheating in my chemistry final.”

“They don’t think you were part of it, do they?” Lydia asked, putting her phone down to give Stiles’ her full attention. 

“No, but they are making the whole class retake it on Monday morning, no excuses.”

“That’s bullshit.” Derek growled furiously. They had made it through finals. Stiles deserved a break. 

“No kidding. The professor is such an ass. He’s probably going to make it way harder now, just to prove a point.”

Stiles stood up with a sigh.

“Where are you going?”

Stiles’ expression was dejected. “Back to our room to study.”

“Stiles.” Derek pleaded. He missed his boyfriend. This was the first time in weeks they had sat together, that Derek had gotten to feel him against his skin. 

“Sorry Sourwolf. I need to pass this.”

Derek nodded, understanding, but hating it all the same.

Stiles spent all day Saturday studying, yet again. Derek left him to it, working on a few pieces he had commission in his shared studio space downtown, after Stiles asked for some space. He got caught up in his work, on mixing the perfect colors and getting the shading just right and ended up staying later than he planned. 

Stiles was in bed when he got home, then already up and studying at the table by the time Derek got up on Sunday, where he stayed all day. So, Derek braved the cold and drizzle that was now falling to take Lydia to the airport without Stiles. She hugged him goodbye and promised to see them soon. 

Derek stopped to pick up supper on the way home, the trip having taken most of the day. He walked in the apartment to find Stiles asleep at the table, using his books as a pillow. 

Derek smiled fondly at his adorable boyfriend sleeping with his mouth open but frowned slightly when he heard Stiles wheezing slightly in his sleep. He ran a hand down Stiles’ check, trying to wake him nicely but instead finding the skin clammy and hotter than usual. He smelled wrong, a light scent of sickly-sweet rot drifting off him. 

Derek frowned even harder, his eyebrows drawling tightly. Humans got sick. He knew that. But Stiles didn’t. He never caught colds or got a stomach bug. He was lucky that way. So this fever, no doubt a result of stress and unhealthy habits, was extremely concerning. 

“Stiles,” Derek said gently, shaking him now as his caress hadn’t woken him. 

Stiles frowned and coughed lightly, waking far too slowly for Derek’s liking. He eventually raised his head to stare at Derek with glassy distant eyes. 

“Derek?” Stiles blinked hard then seemed to finally catch up with what was going on. “Lydia get off alright?”

"Yeah. She should be over Illinois by now."

“Good.” He coughed again, deeper this time and Derek hated it. 

“You’re sick,” he accused. 

Stiles shook his head and rubbed his head. “I’m alright. It’s just a little cold.”

“You have a fever.”

“I’ll take some Tylenol.”

“That won’t mean you’re not sick.”

Stiles signed, looking defeated. “I have a test tomorrow. I don’t have time to be sick.”

Derek grabbed the bag of take out, grateful he got sandwiches and soup instead of greasy Chinese food like they normally did on the weekends. “Go wash up then come eat. Take a break from studying and sit with me for a bit. Maybe you’ll feel better.”

Stiles did not feel better, acting more and more ill the longer the night went on. He picked at his food with one hand, the other holding his head up. Derek had to take it away the soup or risk Stiles faceplanting into it. He got clingy, holding tightly to Derek and curled into his chest. He shivered all evening, seeking out body heat from Derek while hiding under the blankets. 

Derek’s worry grew as he watched his boyfriend deteriorate. The wolf in him came barging to the front, wanting to protect and comfort, but all he could really do was bring him Tylenol and steal the pain of the aches that seemed to be plaguing Stiles. 

They went to bed early, as Stiles kept nodding off on the couch and he had to be up early. But there really wasn’t much of a point. Every time he drifted off, his cough woke him up, getting deeper and wetter each time.

“Is there anything I can do?” Derek asked hesitantly in the dark, hating the sound and how much it had to be hurting his boyfriend. 

Stiles shrugged. “They make meds to stop coughs but I don’t have any. I just need some sleep.”

Derek took his hand under the blankets at pulled at all the discomfort he found there. His hand burned with it and it made him dizzy, but he still pulled. He pulled until there was no hint of pain at all, until the endorphins were all that was floating through Stiles’ brain. He drifted off, coughing still, but essentially too high to care. 

Derek stayed awake much longer, listening to Stiles wheeze in his sleep and worrying. 

\-------  
Stiles’ alarm went off at 6 am, even though his test wasn’t until ten and the exam hall was only a half hour away by subway. He had planned on doing some last minute studying, but instead, he turned off his alarm without looking at it. He rolled over, moaned pitifully, and went right back to sleep. 

Derek watched him, having woken up the moment the alarm went off, knowing full well Stiles’ plan. But he wasn’t surprised at all that Stiles’ was too tired get up.

He nuzzled in close to Stiles’ sweaty neck and sniffed. The smell of sick and rot was even strong and if he wasn’t mistaken, his fever was higher too. Stiles’ had to be running at least as hot as Derek, if not higher. 

“Baby,” Derek murmured, pulling his boyfriend close. “Stiles, baby, can you wake up?”

“Hmm?” Stiles didn’t open his eyes, but his heartbeat sped up enough that Derek was pretty sure he was conscious. 

“You need to go to the doctor.”

“Der,” Stiles’ voice was scratchy and sounded painful. “I have to take this test. My professor isn’t going to give me a make up. He already told the class, if we miss it, we fail.”

“You can’t take the test like this,” He still hadn’t opened his eyes, but Derek could smell the misery on him. 

“I don’t have a choice.” 

Stiles was right. He had worked hard in his class, and he deserved to get a good grade. The fact that he was sick didn’t change that, no matter how unfair it was.

“Can you wake me up in an hour? I need to shower and stuff before I leave.”

“Of course.” Derek agreed, knowing full well he wasn’t getting Stiles up until at least eight. That would still give him plenty of time to get ready, especially considering Derek was definitely driving him to his test, so it would take a lot less time to get there. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’ check, before pulling the pain same as he did the night before, so that maybe Stiles could get some decent rest. 

Derek got up quietly as Stiles’ breathing even out. He hastily pulled some clothes, determined to do all he could before Stiles’ woke up. 

As much as he hated to leave Stiles alone, and he hated it, Stiles needed things to make him feel better. And they didn’t have them in the apartment. 

He headed for the nearest drugstore that was just down the block. It was early enough that it was empty except for the checkout clerk idly playing on her phone.

Derek stormed up to her. “My boyfriend is sick.”

The clerk looked up, her expression one part exasperated, two parts amused. “Can you be more specific?”

He frowned. “He’s got a cough and he’s miserable.”

The clerk, her nametag said her name was Clare, came around the counter and motioned for him to follow. “About half the medications in the store cover cough and miserable, so I’m going to need a little more. Does he have a fever or congestion? Is it a dry cough, or a wet one? Headache? Chills? Body aches?”

Derek felt a little overwhelmed. “I think he has a fever?”

“How high? Do you have a thermometer?”

“No.” They had never needed one.

“Oh boy.” Clare grabbed a basket and forced it onto Derek. She went down the aisle and began tossing things in as she described them. “So, you need one. You have to make sure the fever doesn’t go to high, or he’ll need to see a doctor. Let’s also get you some tissues and cough drops, and some Vaseline for if his lips or nose get cracked, and Vicks for congestion.”

Derek had been silently watching her add things to the basket but jerked it away before she could throw in the Vicks. The blue jar smelled absolutely terrible and made his nose twitch. He wasn’t sure he could stay in the house with Stiles if he had it on. “No Vicks.”

“Alright.” She wasn’t bothered. “Then you might consider a vaporizer. It adds moisture to the air and makes it easier to breath.”

Derek nodded, and she picked up the large box and tucked it under her arm. “So, as far as meds go, there are a lot of options. I’m personally a fan of decongestants with cough suppressant. They fight coughs, congestions, and fever, so they help with the miserable part a lot.” 

“Okay.” Derek grabbed two of the pill packages she gestured too. 

“And you might get one with a sleep aid. It helps a lot at night.”

Derek grabbed those too. He didn’t understand how humans could function with their slow healing. It had to be awful. 

“Now, what do you have for food and drinks?”

Derek just stared at her. Clare smiled and clapped him on the back as she led him to the food aisle. 

“I get it. The first time my girlfriend got sick, we didn’t have a thing either. Let’s get you some soups and clear sodas.”

“Will he eat them? He didn’t last night.” 

Clare shrugged. “Sickness messes with appetite. Try soups, applesauce or toast, but it's ok if he doesn't want them. Just make sure he drinks plenty of fluids. And try not to worry. It won’t last forever alpha.”

Derek froze then took a step back, instantly on guard. The girl didn’t smell like a wolf, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t something else. 

“I’m not an alpha.” He said finally. 

She just smiled. “Maybe your eyes aren’t red. But you’re that boy’s alpha, and that’s enough.”

\-------

Derek left with far too many bags but feeling much more centered. It turned out Clare was a witch with a local pack, the Ryan’s. Derek had talked to them when they moved to the neighborhood, but New York wasn’t really any one pack’s territory. They could stay there without fear, something Clare had confirmed. But she also said gave him her number and said to call if he needed any advice about Stiles’ sickness, and it was nice to have a local friend.

Derek cajoled Stiles out of bed a little after eight, making sure they still had plenty of time to get to the lecture hall where the test was being given. As soon as he was sure Stiles was awake, he began to dose him with medications. Clare had said the sooner they were in him, the sooner he would feel better. 

After that Derek got him in the shower, so the warm water could wake him properly. He made Stiles some toast and tea, while keeping an ear out to make sure he didn’t fall. By the time Stiles came out of the bathroom, he looked better. His skin had some color, at least for his normal pale pallor, and his eyes were clearer.

They ate, Stiles managing an entire piece of toast before they hustled out the door. Derek was irritated because Stiles wouldn’t let him take his temperature. Stiles claimed the shower would have messed with it so it wouldn’t be accurate, but Derek thought he didn’t want to be fussed over. But Stiles made up for it by letting Derek buddle him up in ever coat they had and pack the pockets with tissues and cough drops, so Derek let it go. For now. 

Derek drove down the street, his hands tight on the steering wheel. There was a sort of frozen drizzle coming down and it made the thick traffic even worse as the cars slowed down to avoid the slick spots. But he couldn’t keep his eyes on the road, as he was too focused on how still Stiles was in the passenger seat. He normally sang along to the radio or tapped his feet as he told story after story. But today he just sat and watched the traffic go by, his head against the cold window glass.

Something must have shown on his face as Stiles signed, then sat up, looking at Derek with a tight expression. 

“It’s just a cold, or at worst, the flu,” Stiles assured, popping a cough drop in his mouth. It filled the car with the thick smell of menthol. “All I need is some rest. Once the test is over, we can chill on the couch. I’ll be better in no time.”

He wanted to believe Stiles, he really did. And Stiles wouldn’t lie to him on purpose. But his boyfriend had a terrible habit of ignoring problems until they got worse, instead of dealing with them.

And Stiles seemed so tired and sick. Even now, with the medicines helping him, he still reeked. The deep rot he gave off was nothing like the cold Lydia had had earlier in the year, or even the little sickness his human cousins had once had. It turned Derek’s stomach and made his wolf want to howl. 

“But I can see from your face that my years of experience being a human and knowing my body means nothing to you. So I called Melissa.” Stiles continued. “And she agrees. I’ll be fine.”

Melissa. Derek hadn’t even thought to call the actual nurse in the pack. Hearing that Stiles had talked to her helped Derek relax marginally. He would want to call her personally, to make sure he doing everything right but he knew Melissa could never under play a sickness. She cared too much about her surrogate son for that. 

“Good.” Derek grunted out as they turned the corner. As the campus was nearly cleared out, there was plenty of street parking so Derek got a spot close to the hall.

Stiles refused to let Derek pull whatever discomfort he was still feeling, complaining that he needed to be as clear headed as possible for his test. But he hugged Derek extra tightly before he got out, like he knew just how much the wolf needed to feel close to him. If Derek scented him a little more than usual, running his hand all over his head and neck, Stiles didn’t complain. 

Stiles hurried off to his test and Derek waited in the car. He called Melissa, who confirmed that as long as Stiles’ symptoms didn’t get any worse, all he needed was rest and fluids. She also approved all of Clare’s suggestions to deal with the discomfort. 

The test was two hours long but Derek didn’t mind waiting. He called the Sheriff about Stiles’ bug, and to make sure all their plans were still on, and even texted Scott to let him know Stiles was a little under the weather. Neither of them seemed worried hearing he was sick, making Derek feel even better about Stiles’ chances of an easy recovery. 

The test finally got out, evident by the stream of students pouring out of the building, their joy at being done for the semester thick in the air. Their happiness was infectious, and Derek couldn’t help but smile as well, pleased that the semester was officially over. 

Only he didn’t see Stiles coming towards the car, even as the stream of students trickled to a stop. Derek got out of the car, trying desperatly not to panic as he hurried towards the building. 

No one stopped him as he raced through the halls, all but sprinting as he tried to scent for his boyfriend. But the scents of all the other students, their anxiety, worry and eventually joy overpowering any individual scents, so he was running blind.

Finally, right as Derek was crossing into actual panic, he caught Stiles’ sickly scent. He hurried down a smaller hallway off of the main one, to find Stiles sitting on the floor, back against the wall and head buried in his knees. A young woman crouched in front of him, asking if he was alright, but Stiles wasn’t answering. 

“Stiles?” Derek asked frantically, sliding to a stop beside his boyfriend, ignoring the woman in favor of running a hand through Stiles' sweaty hair as he knelt down. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Derek?” Stiles looked up- his face worrisomely pale. “I don’t feel good.”

Derek’s stomach sunk. Stiles never admitted he didn’t feel well. He had literally seen him holding his skin together with his hands and insisted it was fine. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

The woman stood, apparently satisfied Stiles was going to be taken care of and was no longer her problem. “He got dizzy after the test. I think he just got overwhelmed. It was really stressful and hot in the testing hall.”

“He was sick before he even came here.” Derek snapped. 

The woman shrugged, but her face looked concerned. “There’s a campus urgent care. You’ll probably get quicker care there than an ER.”

Derek thanked her, a clear dismissal, and waited until she was out of earshot. “Do you want to go to the hospital or the urgent care?”

“No hospital.” 

Derek figured that would be his answer. He never like hospitals, always going to Deaton for stitches or broken bones. 

“Urgent Care it is. Can you walk or do you want me to carry you?”

“I can walk.” Stiles clung to Derek as he slowly got him up. “I think she was right. I was fine until then end when I got really hot all of a sudden.”

“That’s probably the fever.” Derek could feel it on him through his clothes. They slowly made their way out of the building, Stiles directing him towards the urgent care clinic, just a half a block down. 

They walked in and Derek was pleased to find that the waiting room was nearly empty, probably because most students had already left for the holidays. Stiles filled out the required paperwork, hands shaking as he wrote, then they were immediately led into an exam room. 

The nurse was kind, taking his vitals with an easy manner while asking about their holiday plans to help ease Stiles’ anxiety. She then got them comfortable as they waited for the doctor, Stiles’ head resting on Derek’s lap with a borrowed blanket on his lap.

The doctor came in, looking at the nurse’s notes. He didn’t even put them down before announcing “Your roommate has the flu.”

Derek bristled. “Boyfriend. And you didn’t even examine him.”

“I didn’t even have to. He has the flu.”

Derek was shaking with the effort of not slamming the man’s head into a wall. He couldn’t very well say Stiles smelled too sick for the flu, but he had to get this guy to listen. Stiles needed help. “Listen you jerk,”

Stiles coughed, loud and harsh. Derek helped him sit up, as the coughing went on and one until the nurse came in with a bottle of water. Derek took it with a thanks and helped him sip it, as the doctor rolled his eyes as though Stiles was being dramatic. 

“Your boyfriend needs rest and fluids and to not waste our time. We can’t do anything for him.”

The doctor left without another word and the nurse gave them a sympathetic smile. Derek pitied her for having to work with the man. “Try some Mucinex DM. He should feel better soon.”

Stiles coughed again and buried his head in Derek’s chest. Derek petted him absentmindedly as she also walked away. 

“Can we go home?”

“Yeah baby. We can go home.”

\-----

They drove home in silence, Stiles nodding off on the short drive. Derek didn’t wake him when they got home simply carrying him inside, ignoring any weird looks he got for carrying a grown man. 

Stiles roused slightly as he was put to bed, but other than that, slept soundly through the rest of the day, his cough only mildly bothering him. Derek puttered around, doing laundry and cleaning as quietly as he could, all the while keeping an ear out for Stiles’ heartrate and breathing. 

Stiles got up around supper, eating his soup without complaint while they watched some shows they had gotten behind on during the finals crunch. Derek made sure he took another dose of medicine, and they went to bed again. 

The next few days passed basically the same way. Stiles napped a lot, but when he was awake, he and Derek cuddled on the couch and binge watched TV. Thankfully they had already bought and shipped all their Christmas presents to Beacon Hills and Derek had planned on being off work anyway. So they didn’t have to do anything other than sit on the couch and rest.

The worry that Stiles wasn’t getting better was always there, but Derek was starting to feel calmer now that they were safe in their den and Derek could take care of him. 

And take care of Stiles he did. He constantly plied Stiles with drinks when he was awake and drew long soothing bathes to help break up the junk in his chest. He changed the sheets every day, so they wouldn’t have to sleep in the sick smelling, dirty ones, and washed Stiles’ favorite PJ’s constantly so he could wear them every night. 

If fact, if Stiles wasn’t so worn down, he probably would have found the attentions overwhelming. But he was tired all the time no matter how much he slept, so all he did was let Derek wait on him hand and foot and cuddle even closer. 

\-----

A nor’easter blew through on Wednesday, downing the airplanes and stressing out Stiles. 

“But what if our flights get canceled?” Stiles asked, sitting at the window and watching the snow blow harsh and cold. He coughed yet again and grabbed another cough drop. His fever was manageable with the meds, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the cough. 

Derek shrugged, his feet tucked under Stiles’ leg, not looking up from his sketch. He had been working on some new ideas, drawings of the woods back home. It had always felt too painful to draw them before, but here in New York with Stiles’ beside him, it felt right somehow. 

“Then we get a new flight.”

“But we were flying on Christmas cause it was cheapest. The day after will be crazy expensive.”

“I can afford it.”

Stiles smacked him lightly. “But I don’t want you to have to.”

Derek shrugged again. He didn’t mind. He had money and there is no one he would rather spend on than Stiles. 

“I guess that’s what we’ll do then.”

“If we even” Derek said, without thinking, then shut up immediately.

“If we even what?”

“Nothing.” Derek glowered at his boyfriend, hoping he would drop it.

“No, you said, if. If we even, what?”

Derek sighed and gave in. “If we should even be flying,”

Stiles sat up, positively glaring at Derek. “Why on earth would we not be able to fly? Because I have a cold?”

“I’ve been doing some reading, and nasty things can happen when you fly with the flu. Your eardrums could rupture or you could get really breathless or your fever could spike at 3000 ft.”

Any those things could happen and they would be stuck on a plane, as far away from a hospital as possible. It was dangerous and Derek was worried. 

“There is no way I’m not seeing my dad and the pack for Christmas. It’s bad enough I ruined our week together by sleeping all the time. I’m not missing them too.” Stiles crossed his arms with a frown, his scent gathering thickly into anger. 

“And I know that. I just worry.” Derek held up his hands beseechingly. “I can’t let anything happened to you.”

Stiles eyes went soft and the anger faded as quickly as it came. He pressed a kiss to his lips. “And I love you for that. But I have to see my family Der. I have to.”

Derek understood that. He found himself missing his family even more than usual this time of year. He missed him mother’s cooking, and his father singing poorly to carols. He missed the joy and chaos that came from little children decorating a tree. And most of all, he missed that special feeling of being surrounded by all the people he loved and knowing there was no place he would rather be.

“You will. I promise.”

\------

On Thursday, Stiles started to cough up mucus. It started off mostly clear but got darker as the day progressed. 

His fever got more aggressive as well, making him chilled and miserable. He laid on the couch, unable to nap properly because of the constant coughing, but he still insisted he could be fine by Saturday. 

Derek stayed with him, taking his body aches and as much of the chills as he could, but he couldn’t do anything about the cough. He texted back and forth with Melissa, who said without seeing Stiles, she was still assuming it was the flu and that this was probably it’s breaking point. But she caught he should listen to his gut and take Stiles to the hospital if he felt they couldn’t control the symptoms at home. 

Derek was more than glad when night finally fell and Stiles could take the drowsy medication. He needed the rest. He was exhausted, dark circles under his eyes that stood out dramatically against his sickly pale skin. 

They both went to bed, Derek pulling the pain from Stiles body aches and his raw and sore throat. Stiles dropped off quickly as the medicine kicked in, Derek following shortly, his own fatigue from the constant worry and the pain pulling making it impossible to stay awake once Stiles’ heart evened out in sleep.

Derek didn’t know what woke him. It wasn’t Stiles coughing next to him or his fever hot body flailing in his sleep, because when he rolled over, the other side of the bed was empty and cold.

Derek sat up with a heart pounding jolt, awake all at once and zeroing in on Stiles’ heartbeat coming from the bathroom. He must have been dead asleep to not have heard Stiles get up.

He didn’t bother with putting pants on over his boxers, as he walked straight to the bathroom as he heard the shower turn on.

Stiles was sitting on the closed toilet lid, head back against the wall and the shower steaming up the room. His scent was so bitter and full of pain that Derek’s nose burned to smell it. Derek closed the door as he walked in and ran a hand over his boyfriend’s sweaty hair.

“Stiles?”

He blinked up at Derek, his gaze way too distant. “I don’t feel good.” 

“I know baby. I know. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” 

“Hurts.” Stiles was gasping now, tears welling up and spilling over. Derek rubbed his back, trying to comfort him but didn’t dare take any of his obvious pain. He worried now that all the pain pulling he had been doing before might have hidden something inside Stiles that was very wrong. 

“What hurts?”

“Head and chest.” Stiles whimpered pathetically, leaning all his weight against Derek’s chest. “Feels like I can’t breathe.”

Derek’s anxiety ramped up even higher. He had noticed that Stiles was having trouble catching his breath today, but he put if off to the constant coughing. He didn’t think it might be something else. 

Derek crouched slightly, tipping Stiles’ head up and paying close attention to his breathing pattern. 

His chest sounded terribly congested, each exhale a pained wheeze. It must have happened so slowly that Derek didn’t notice it happening. 

“Your lips are blue.” Derek said, horrified at the realization. 

Stiles shrugged, more tears streaming down his face. “I want my dad.”

Derek took a deep breath himself. He could handle this. It was going to be fine.

“We’re going to the ER.”

\------

Derek didn’t remember getting to the hospital. He must have gotten them both dressed and drove them, but it was all a blur. All he knew was one minute they were at the apartment, the next, the red neon lights of the hospital were lighting up Stiles’ pale face. 

They walked through the door, Derek supporting most of Stiles’ weight, as he was too weak to walk on his own. He went directly to the check-in desk to demand help. The nurse looked at Stiles with a calculating gaze, then sent them to a row of chairs. 

The room was packed with people coughing and puking. It stuck horrible, the chemical smell of the cleaners doing nothing to cover the rotting smell of sickness rolling off every one of them.

Stiles was nearly silently in his arms, the only sound coming from him was his ragged breathing. Derek was shaking with fear, trying to keep his wolf under control when he was sure his mate was dying. 

“It’s okay Der,” Stiles said, patting Derek’s arm comfortingly. “The nurses know what they’re doing. If I’m waiting, it means other people are much worse off. It a good thing.”

“Doesn’t feel good.” Derek nuzzled in close to Stiles’ neck and focused on his steady, if a little too quick, heartbeat. 

Despite Derek’s worries, they didn’t wait too long, maybe 10 minutes. But it felt like it was much longer before a nurse finally came to take them to an exam room.

Unlike the doctor at the urgent care clinic, the nurses and doctors took Stiles’ symptoms very seriously. Several tests and a couple hours later, they diagnosed him with pneumonia. 

“Pneumonia?” Stiles asked incredulously. He had been feeling much better since they hooked him up to fluids and gave him some oxygen. Derek squeezed his hand from the chair beside his bed that he had been perched at since he was admitted. 

“Isn’t that just for old people and like, cancer patients who have no way to fight anything off?”

The nurse nodded, checking his vitals. “Usually. But apparently your immune system hasn’t exactly been up to par. We’re running a few extra tests to make sure there isn’t an underlying condition, but looks like you just got run down, got sick, then didn’t treat it.”

Derek bristled at the accusation. “We went to the doctor. He said it was the flu. We treated for the flu.”

The nurse looked at him sympathetically. “It might have been the flu, at the time. We’ll run some tests for that too.”

She walked out after telling Stiles to get some rest. He needed it for sure, but instead, he turned to Derek and looked at him with dull eyes. 

“It’s because of the Nogitsune.”

“What?” Derek’s heart jumped at the mention of the spirit. The fear that something supernatural had followed them from Beacon Hills hit him, and he frowned to hide it. “What do you mean?”

“When we split. When I got my new body.” Stiles wouldn’t look at Derek, focusing on his blanket covered feet. “Deaton said it might be like starting over. I had to get all my childhood vaccines again, just in case. I should have gotten the flu shot, but I was always too busy to go over to the clinic.”

Derek’s frown deepened, not liking his boyfriend’s tone. “Stiles, this isn’t your fault.”

Hot tears rolled down his face. “They’re not going to let me fly home Derek, if I even get out of here in time for Christmas.”

“Baby,” Derek grabbed is hand and held on tight. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. It was my mom’s favorite holiday, you know. We always watched The Wizard of Oz, because it was her favorite movie, and it was the only day we knew for sure Dad would be home to watch it. Then we would drink hot chocolate and make pancakes for dinner. It was perfect. And after she was gone, me and dad, we would try so hard to make it feel like that again. And it wasn’t, but that was ok, because we still had each other. And now, he’s going to be all alone. And the pack. I won’t get to see any of them. And I miss them. I miss them so much it hurts.”

Stiles was crying properly by now and doing no favors for his labored breathing. Derek fought back is own tears.

“I miss them too.”

He missed them all, the pack in Beacon Hills, but also his own family. He missed them so much it hurt, but this year it was suppost to be better. He and Stiles had plans to try to remember they properly, to bring back the good Christmas memories. They were going to make cookies with his mother’s recipe and listen to his dad’s favorite old carols. It would be his first time trying to do any of it since the fire. And now they weren’t even going to be able do that. 

At least he still had Stiles. They had caught the pneumonia in time and he wasn’t going to lose him. He fought back his own tears as he focused on Stiles, instead of all the people and traditions they would be missing. It would still be Christmas, just different. 

“Stiles, he’s not going to be alone. The pack won’t let that happen.” Derek tried to comfort his boyfriend and refocus him on the good things, but it was no use. Stiles was far too tired and worn down for logic to comfort him. All Derek could do was hold him as he cried himself to sleep. 

\-------

Once he was certain Stiles was out for the rest of the night, or rather the early morning, Derek stepped out into the hall, running a hand over his tired face. He didn’t want to call the Sheriff, but he knew the John would never forgive him if he knew Stiles was in the hospital and Derek didn’t tell him. 

John picked up on the first ring, his voice sharp despite the hour. “Derek, is everything alright? Is Stiles ok?”

“He’s fine. The doctors say he’ll be able to come home sometime tomorrow.”

“Come home? Derek what happened?” The Sheriff demanded, fear evident in his voice. 

“He has pneumonia. It got bad last night, or today I guess, so I took him to the ER.”

There was a tired sigh that Derek was familiar with. “But he’s alright?” 

Derek nodded, then remember he was on the phone. Maybe he was more tired than he thought. “They’re giving him fluids and oxygen but they think he’ll be good to come home on oral antibiotics. Today or tomorrow.”

John murmured something about luck and there was the sound of rustling, like he was getting out of bed or off the couch. 

“He’s upset. He’s worried about missing Christmas.” Derek blurted out. “But I checked. They won’t let him fly until he’s entirely better. And that could take a few weeks.”

“Son, if you think for a moment, I’m not coming to you on the next flight, you have another thing coming.”

“Good luck. It’s Christmas Eve, one of the most popular travel days of the year. And you work tomorrow anyway.”

The Sheriff growled, literally, apparently having picked up some habits from the pack. “Screw work. My son is sick, in the hospital. He needs me.”

Derek rubbed his neck. “He does sir. He needs the whole pack really and.”

Derek stopped, a sudden thought hitting him. “Sir, do you think you could call Scott and see if any of the pack could manage to get away for Christmas, if I could arrange a flight.”

“If you could arrange it, I know they’ll manage. Scott’s been driving everyone crazy with his excitement over seeing Stiles and the other’s aren’t much better.”

“Great.” Derek suddenly felt wide awake. “I have some favors to call in.”

\------

Stiles didn’t get discharged until Christmas day. His vitals were fine, but the doctors had been worried about his immune system and had run several time-consuming tests to make sure there wasn't an issue. Eventually it was decided that he was alright, that the flu that went to his lungs was just particularly nasty. 

It wasn’t great timing for Stiles. He was upset, worried he was ruining Derek’s holiday, and no matter how much Derek promised he wasn’t, Stiles still smelled miserable about it, constantly apologizing for being them being stuck on the hospital on Christmas. 

Derek didn’t mind at all. He was truly happy to just be wherever Stiles was. Hospital, apartment, or Beacon Hills, it didn’t matter. Stiles was his family now, and that was Christmas was. Family. 

But the late discharge worked out well for Derek surprise, giving him plenty of time to make the necessary calls. By the time they were leaving the hospital, everything was in place. 

Stiles was still worn down in the car, still just staring out the window, not talking at all.

“Want to go downtown and look at the lights?” Derek asked, hating that Stiles was in this funk. “That way when we get back, it will be late enough we can Skype you dad. He’ll be off by then.” 

Stiles just shrugged, but as they began to take in the beautiful sight that was New York in the holiday season, he began to relax, a faint smile on his face. A light snow was falling and it felt magical. Stiles scent shifted to something sweet and Derek smiled, slipping his hand into his boyfriends. 

“Maybe we can have pancakes for supper?” Stiles asked, as they pulled up to the apartment. “Is a shame it’s too late to get a tree, but maybe we can find a few lights. Make it feel nice.”

Derek grinned. He was glad Stiles mood was up. “Whatever you want.”

They walked in and Stiles stopped dead. 

It looked nothing like the apartment they had left, full of thrown around blankets and sweaters and smelling stale, like sickness. It had been transformed into a winter wonderland. A tall, fresh tree was in the window, decked out with lights. Garland was strung down from the ceiling, and snowmen decorations were on nearly every surface. It smelled like cinnamon from fresh cookies and pine from the tree. 

But most importantly, right in the middle of the room was the pack. The Sheriff was front and center as though he had been watching the door, with Melissa to his side. Scott was by the window, helping Kira put up garland while Lydia and Malia finished up the tree. Isaac and Allison were on the couch cuddling, but they jumped up as the door opened. Even Chris was puttering around in the back. Each of them was smiling widely, looking thrilled to be here.

John walked over and wrapped his son in a huge hug, tears in his eyes. “Merry Christmas son.”

“I don’t understand. How?” Stiles was shaking, and he coughed deeply. Derek led him over to the couch were hot chocolate and cookies were waiting, the TV on the DVD menu for The Wizard of Oz. He sat, pulling Stiles onto his lap and let the others fawn over him. 

The pack gathered around him, everyone wanting to touch him. The wolves had the need to comfort their sick packmate, and everyone had missed him. They talked over each other, everyone wanting to make sure he was alright. But Derek could see Stiles was stuck on the how, unable to move past it. 

“It was Peter,” Derek said finally, breaking thought the din. “He helped me arrange a private flight to get them here.”

“Wait what?” Stiles looked around at all the pack’s faces, before focusing on Derek. “Like a chartered flight?”

Malia shrugged. “He likes you best. He even said he would give you the gift of not coming himself.”

“So you all just dropped all your plans and came here for Christmas?”

Melissa smiled her hand running down his face, surreptitiously taking his temperature while comforting him. “Of course we did. You’re family Stiles. You always show up for family.”

“Family,” Stiles repeated faintly. “My family is here.”

Derek knew the pack had plans for them, real Christmas traditions. Soon they would watch the movie and eat snacks. John had made sure that they had plenty of ingredients for pancakes and he knew the girls had brought their gifts to make it feel like a real Christmas. 

But Derek realized, as he looked at the people all around them and the love on each of their faces, they didn’t need any of it. All they needed, all any of them really needed, was each other.

Derek smiled, pulling Stiles even closer. It wasn’t the same as the Christmas he used to have. He would always miss his mother’s cooking and his fathers’ singing. Just like Stiles’ would always miss his own mother’s traditions. 

But he was with his mate and with his family. It was perfect all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! In a year that has been hard in every way, I hope it brought you even the tiniest bit of joy.


End file.
